


A Quack Pack Christmas!

by SummerStormFlower



Category: Disney Duck Universe, Quack Pack (Cartoon 1996)
Genre: Arguing, Bickering, Brothers, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Cousins, Falling Off A Ladder, Family Fluff, Family Reunions, Gen, Gift Exchange, Gift Giving, Hot Chocolate, Hugs, Little Sisters, Milk And Cookies, Pillow Fights, Sibling Love, Sibling fights, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28276482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerStormFlower/pseuds/SummerStormFlower
Summary: Christmastime in the Quack Pack universe, in which Huey and Dewey get into a fight while putting up the Christmas lights, and Fethry and Gladstone compete for "best uncle" at Grandma Duck's farm.
Relationships: Daisy Duck/Donald Duck, Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck, Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Webby Vanderquack, Donald Duck & Fethry Duck & Gladstone Gander
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	A Quack Pack Christmas!

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I'd get this done, but as it turns out I did! Hope you enjoy! And Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah!!

Everybody’s favourite time of year was coming around. Snow was on the ground and magic was in the air. That’s right, Christmas was just around the corner! The time for family, for giving, for love...

Unfortunately, it was also the time for putting up Christmas lights.

Huey grumbled to himself, as he climbed up the ladder with the lights in his hands. He didn’t mind decorating, he just didn’t enjoy the frustration it caused. Lights were never easy. He hated doing them. But it was his turn to put them up on the garage this year. Lucky him.

“You good up there, Hugh?” Dewey called from below. He was holding the ladder.

“Yeah!” Huey replied, then continued grumbling to himself in annoyance, as he struggled to make the Christmas lights. Stay. Up. Like. They. Were. Supposed. To. Honestly, why didn’t they just leave them up year-round? Would be less hassle. He didn’t see the mischievous smirk on his shitster of a brother.

Dewey gave the ladder a shake.

Huey slapped his hand against the wall of the garage. At his brother’s snickering, Huey glared down at him.

“That wasn’t funny!”

“It was a little funny,” Dewey laughed.

Huey growled. “Don’t do that again.”

Dewey sighed, “Okay, fine...”

Huey really should’ve known better. Dewey shook the ladder again, harder this time, probably just to get a scare out of him. Huey wasn’t expecting it. He lost his balance and tipped over, taking the lights down with him.

“Huey!” Dewey shouted, realizing his mistake.

Huey fell into the snowbank, so his landing was thankfully cushioned. Dewey ran over to him, concern having replaced the smirk on his face.

“You okay?” he asked.

Huey’s glare was deadly. “Just help me up!”

Dewey did as he was told. He grabbed Huey’s hand and pulled him out the snow.

Huey was already lunged for his shirt. “Why I oughta-” he stopped. The empty space on his wrist held his gaze. “My watch!” he cried, letting Dewey go and diving back into the snowbank to look for his wristwatch. He must’ve lost it when he fell off the ladder.

“What watch?” Dewey asked, kneeling down to help him look.

“The one Uncle D gave me!” Huey said, digging through the cold snow with his bare hands. “He said it was an heirloom on his dad’s side! Remember?”

Dewey did remember. The wristwatch Uncle Donald had gifted Huey on their birthday. He’d told him he got it from his dad, who got it from his dad, and so on. It was the memory of a grandpa they never had the chance to meet. It was extremely important to Huey.

Christmas lights forgotten, they searched in the snow until they couldn’t feel their fingertips. Dewey even got the shovel in an attempt to make the search easier. But they didn’t find it. After a fruitless hour of shovelling and looking, their winter coats were soaked with cold sweat and their bones ached from the frosty wind. The sun dipped blow the horizon, stars beginning to peek out in the darkness of the sky. 

Then Uncle Donald called them inside.

Huey’s watch was still lost.

Dewey looked at his brother’s back. He was just hoping Huey wasn’t too upset with him when Huey whipped around, clearly very furious with him.

“This is all your fault!” Huey yelled, his face an angry red.

A rock dropped in Dewey’s stomach. “Huey, I’m-” 

“Save it!” his furious brother spat, then shoved him hard. “You better watch your back, asshole!” 

“Hu-”

It was too late. Huey was storming into the house, slamming the door behind him. Dewey hung his head and sighed, ridden with guilt. Whatever revenge Huey came up with, he’d probably deserve.

(But when has revenge ever solved anything?)

The next morning, Dewey woke up and sat up, yawning, and dragged a hand through his hair. He froze. Something felt wrong.

Panic rising in his chest, Dewey raced to the mirror in the bathroom.

A gut-wrenching scream pierced through the house.

“YOU CUT MY HAIR!”

Louie would’ve intervened—he really would’ve—but when his brothers were this mad, it was better not to risk getting involved.

“Yeah, well you lost a family heirloom!” Huey barked back.

“YOU CUT MY HAIR!!!”

Louie sucked in a breath. He rarely ever saw Dewey this angry. Louie wasn’t one to pick sides when his brothers fought, but he couldn’t help but think that Huey might’ve gone a little too far. He got that Huey was mad and hurt, but this was Dewey’s hair. While he was nowhere near as vain about his looks as Huey, he did love his hair. It hadn’t been this short in years. 

“I was getting even!”

“You call THIS getting even?!”

Huey, the one with the temper, took a step back.

“At least I didn’t mean to make you lose your watch!” Dewey shouted, jabbing his finger at Huey’s chest. “But you did this on purpose!”

Then Dewey stormed out of the kitchen, running angry fingers in his short hair.

A heavy silence took his place after he was gone.

Huey’s arms were crossed defiantly, but his gaze was glued to the kitchen floor and his eyes were filled with guilt.

Louie tried not to say anything, he really did. But it just slipped out.

“I can’t believe you cut his hair.”

Huey shot him an unappreciative look. Louie shrugged at him. He sighed and stared at the floor again. Maybe he had gone too far.

They loaded Uncle Donald’s old car in uncomfortable, heavy silence. They were headed to Grandma Duck’s farm for Christmas. Usually, they were livelier, talking and laughing in their excitement to see their family. With Huey and Dewey not talking to each other, though, it was tense.

Louie had tried to break the ice between them, cracking a joke he knew they both would find funny. But neither of them laughed.

The boys got in the backseat, buckling themselves in. Huey and Dewey wouldn’t even look at each other. Uncle Donald’s exhausted sigh was audible, as he started the car.

Daisy tried to lighten the mood, suggesting they sing some carols on the way to the farm. Only Donald and Louie sang along with her though.

Five minutes later, Huey and Dewey got into a fist fight, so Donald had to pull over. That was how Louie ended up sitting in the middle, acting as a barrier between his brothers.

“Donald!” Gladstone cried with a grin, throwing his arms up as he closed in on his cousin.

“Oh boy,” muttered Donald. Gladstone wrapped him in a hug.

“Hey, cuz! How’s your luck been treatin’ ya?”

Donald sighed, patting Gladstone’s back and promptly pushing his cousin off of him. “Decided to show your ugly mug this year, huh?” he asked.

Gladstone gave him a look and was about to reply when Louie plowed into him.

“Uncle G!”

“Oof! Hey, there’s my lil’ green bean!” Gladstone said happily, taking Louie’s baseball cap off and ruffling his feathers. “Good to see ya, kid.”

“Good to see you, too!” Louie cried, eyes bright. He threw his arms around Gladstone’s neck, giving him a quick hug.

Donald couldn’t help but smile at how Gladstone’s face softened in endearment. 

“I gotta go hug Grandma now. Talk to you later!” Louie bid his goodbye before bounding away with his hat.

Gladstone laughed. “Man, kid’s sure grown up, eh Don?”

Donald groaned because it was true. “Don’t make me think about that. It’s Christmas.”

Gladstone laughed again.

“Donnie!!”

Donald would recognize that voice anywhere. “Oh boy,” he said a second time, turning around just in time to catch Fethry in a hug. “Hey, Feth.”

“I’m so happy to see you!” Fethry cried, his smile as huge as ever, and still wearing that dumb stocking cap he’d had ever since they were ducklings. Donald had rarely ever seen him without it. He hadn’t changed at all. “I’ve told you before that you’re my favourite cousin, right?”

Donald sighed, but there was a fond smile on his beak. “Yes, you have. Many times,” he replied.

“Oh. Guess I’ll just tell you again!” Fethry said, slinging his arm across Donald’s shoulders. “You’re my favourite cousin!”

Donald rolled his eyes, but his smile never faltered.

“Hey!” exclaimed Gladstone, offended. “What does that make me? Chopped liver?” he asked.

“Gladdy!” cried Fethry. He let go of Donald and slung his arm around his other cousin. “Don’t worry, you’re my second favourite cousin.”

“Gee, I’m so touched,” Gladstone said sarcastically.

Donald sighed as heavy as he could, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to be truly annoyed with the two of them. They might’ve made him crazy from time to time, but he loved them.

Donald wasn’t at all surprised when Huey ran up and tackled Fethry.

“Hey, Huey! I missed you!” Fethry laughed joyfully, flinging his arms around Huey, even as he grunted from the rather rough impact.

“Uncle Feth!” Huey cried. “You still have those weird fish?”

“I sure do!”

Huey chuckled, then gave Fethry a squeeze. “Alright, I gotta go find Webby.”

Fethry gave him a knowing smirk. “To tease her?”

“Duh! It’s my job to torture her!” Huey replied, smirking back before he turned around. He spotted his baby sister across the room and his eyes lit up evilly.

“Hubert,” Donald said sternly.

“Can’t hear you, Uncle D!” Huey called, running toward poor unsuspecting Webby.

Donald shook his head.

“Hey Don, do you have a favourite?” Fethry suddenly asked.

Donald balked, horrified. “I love each of my boys the same!”

“No, nitwit,” Gladstone laughed, “Between us.” He gestured to himself and Fethry. “Who’s your favourite cousin?”

Donald gave his cousins a flat look. “We’re really doing this?”

“Oh please!! We really wanna know!!” Fethry begged, bouncing in spot.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Gladstone quirked both his eyebrows, and Fethry elbowed him in his side.

Donald crossed his arms at them. “I’m the oldest. I’m not allowed to have favourites,” he said simply.

They both gawked at him.

“You’re not even a year older than me!”

“There’s barely two months between me and you!”

“I’m still older than you! Both of you!”

Gladstone sighed disappointedly. “You’re no fun, Don.”

Donald smirked at him. “I’m loads of fun.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

A light bulb lit up above Fethry’s head then. “Let’s find out which uncle is the boys’ favourite!” he exclaimed.

Gladstone grinned. “Brilliant, Feth!”

“What is with you two?” Donald asked, unimpressed.

“Don’s not allowed to participate because he’s no fun and he’s practically the boys’ dad,” Gladstone said, ignoring his cousin. Fethry nodded in agreement and they shook hands.

“May the best uncle win.”

Donald rolled his eyes.

“Everything has to be a competition between you three, doesn’t it?” 

Gladstone and Fethry looked up. “Grandma!”

“Don’t lump me in with them,” Donald told the elderly lady, “I’m not part of this.”

“We’re not competing, Grandma!” Fethry proclaimed, Gladstone nodding beside him. “We’re just... joking around!”

Grandma put her hands on her hips, shaking her head with a small smile. “If you say so, dear.”

They waited, as Grandma walked away, until they knew for sure she was out of earshot. Donald sighed.

“You seriously don’t favour one of us, Don?” Gladstone asked.

Donald turned around to walk away, knowing his cousins would follow him anyway. “I already told you the answer!”

“You can tell us! We know you love both of us!” Fethry said.

“Go away.”

Gladstone slid into the chair beside Louie, who was eating a cookie with some milk.

“Hey, green bean,” he said.

Louie grinned at him. “Hi, Uncle G. What’s up?”

“Eh, nothing much,” Gladstone replied, leaning back and throwing an arm around Louie’s chair. “Just wondering... who’s your favourite uncle?”

Louie gagged, quickly grabbing his cup and washing his cookie down with milk. “F-favourite u-uncle?”

“Yeah!” Gladstone exclaimed, carefully patting the kid on the back. “Me or Feth?”

Louie fiddled nervously with his fingers. “But... you’re not supposed to have favourites with family,” he said, not wanting to hurt either of his uncles. He loved them both and he thought they were both great.

“Sure you can!” said Uncle G, laying an elbow on Louie’s shoulder. “Having a favourite doesn’t mean you don’t love the rest of your family, it just means... you prefer one person over everyone else.”

Louie frowned, unconvinced. “I don’t know-”

“It’ll stay just between you and me. Deal?” Gladstone held out his hand for a handshake, smiling lazily.

Louie sighed, giving in. He shook his uncle’s hand.

“So...” Gladstone whispered, leaning in close to his nephew. “Who’s your favourite uncle?”

Louie rolled his eyes. “You know it’s you, Uncle G.”

“One point for Gladstone, baby!” Gladstone jumped out of his chair, throwing a fist in the air. “Two more to go! I’m winning this!”

“Winning what?” Louie asked, but his uncle had already ran away.

“Hi, Huey!” exclaimed Fethry, appearing in front of Huey’s face.

Huey jumped back. “What the—Uncle Fethry...?” He raised an eyebrow. “How are you hanging upside down from the ceiling?”

“Oh, I just don’t think about it.”

“...” That didn’t really answer Huey’s question. “Uh, okay. Well, what do you need? And could you make it quick? Webby’s hiding from me and I’m trying to find her.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Uncle Feth said with a nod. “Just wanted to ask you something, that’s all.”

“Ask me what?”

“Who your favourite uncle is.”

“That’s easy. My weirdest one,” Huey replied.

“Your weirdest one?” Fethry blinked. “Who would that be?”

Huey shook his head with a fond grin. “You, Uncle Feth,” he said. Then he went around his uncle, running off to continue his search for his little sister.

“Okay thanks, Hugh!” Fethry called. Then fell from the ceiling.

It was Christmas Eve, and Huey and Dewey still hadn’t spoken to each other. If it was any other time, Louie couldn't have cared less. But it was Christmastime and he wanted to spend it with both of his brothers.

Not to mention, Webby was sad. There was nothing Louie hated more than seeing his baby sister sad.

So, Louie came up with a plan to get his brothers to make up.

Webby following him, he went into their room Grandma had prepared for the four of them. Huey and Dewey had chosen the beds furthest away from each other. Webby plopped on her bed, as Louie walked up to both his brothers, handing them each a Christmas present.

“What are you doing, Lou?” Dewey asked, confused. He read the tag on the present Louie had gave him. “Hey, this is from Huey,” he said, frowning even more confusedly.

“And this says it’s from Dewey,” said Huey, reading the tag on his gift. He looked up at Louie. “Why’d you give us the presents we got each other?” he asked, gesturing briefly between himself and Dewey.

Louie sat beside Webby. “Because you guys aren’t allowed to give each other the ‘silent treatment’ at Christmas,” he said, Webby nodding in agreement beside him.

Huey and Dewey glanced at each other, guilt in both of their eyes.

“Open them,” Webby said, grinning.

“But we’re not supposed to open presents until tomorrow,” protested Dewey.

Louie got up and closed their door. “There.” He sat back down beside Webby. “Now open them.”

Hesitantly, Huey and Dewey looked at each other.

“You go first,” said Huey, setting his gift aside for now.

“Okay...” Dewey spared a nervous glimpse at the door, like someone might open it. Then he started tearing the wrapping paper. He blinked once the content of his gift was revealed. “You got me a comb?” he asked Huey.

“Yeah...” Huey said awkwardly, looking anywhere but at Dewey’s short hair. “Uh, your initials are engraved in the back.”

“...Really?” Dewey flipped the blue comb around. There was his name.

Huey rubbed the back of his head. “I kinda... got that for you before I... killed your hair while you were sleeping,” he explained.

It was quiet a moment. Louie and Webby watched them anxiously.

Dewey smirked. “So, you bought me a comb, specifically for long hair, and then, you decided it’d be a good idea to cut my hair?” he asked, amused.

Huey smiled slowly. “I forgot what I got you.”

“You forgot what you got me!” Dewey laughed.

Louie and Webby grinned at each other.

“Wasn’t my smartest moment, okay!” Huey exclaimed, but he was laughing as well.

“Okay, okay,” Dewey sighed, smirk turning into a smile. “Now you go.”

Huey unwrapped his present, freezing when he saw what was inside. “My watch?” he asked quietly.

Dewey’s smile turned embarrassed. “Yeah. Uh, it took awhile, but I found it,” he replied.

Huey looked at his watch, then at his brother. “Thanks,” he murmured, eyes warm.

“Yeah, you too,” said Dewey, playing with his new comb.

Louie smiled.

“They’re good now, right?” Webby whispered in his ear. 

Louie nodded at her.

“PILLOW FIGHT!!” Webby cried, whacking Louie in the head with her pillow.

Then there was war. (At least until Grandma came and told the four of them to go to sleep).

The next morning, Webby woke them up at the rise of the sun, and everyone gathered downstairs for breakfast and presents. It was certainly a full house; full of people and love.

While Dewey was drinking a mug of hot chocolate, Gladstone and Fethry approached him.

“Hey Dewey, who’s your favourite uncle?” Uncle G asked, both he and Fethry grinning with anticipation.

Somewhere behind them, Donald rolled his eyes.

Dewey scoffed at them. “Uncle Scrooge, obviously,” he said.

“What?!”

“But that means each of the boys like a different uncle!”

“Yeah, almost like we’re separate people,” Dewey said sarcastically, going to sit on the floor by the tree with his siblings.

Gladstone and Fethry stared helplessly after him.

“So... nobody wins?” asked Fethry.

“I thought you boys weren’t competing?”

Gladstone and Fethry jumped, whipping around to the voice behind them. There stood Grandma.

“We’re not!” cried Gladstone.

“Yeah! Just... uh... joking around again!” said Fethry.

Donald rolled his eyes again.

Grandma shook her head with a fond huff. “All you hooligans did was get taller.”

Dewey plopped on the floor beside Huey. He was about to push his bangs out of his eyes, then stopped himself when he realized he could see perfectly fine. “Gotta get used that,” he chuckled, putting his hand back on his mug of hot chocolate.

“Thanks, Louie!” Webby cried cheerfully, hugging the pink pair of big, fluffy slippers he’d gotten her to her chest.

“You’re welcome,” said Louie, grabbing her in a playful headlock, not letting her go when she whined at him and struggled.

“Merry Christmas, you guys,” said Huey, slinging an arm around Dewey.

“Merry Christmas!”

And a very merry Christmas, it was.


End file.
